Cupid of Campion

“Clarence Esmond, age 14, weight 110 pounds, height five feet two in my – ”

“And how did you come to be in that boat?”

Clarence, involuntarily gazing at his frail craft and noticing that the older gypsy, assisted by the boy, had already beached it, and was now getting ready to give it a new coat of paint, proceeded to tell at some length his various encounters with the bright-eyed goddess of adventure since his departure that morning from McGregor. While he was telling his rather incredible tale all the party gathered about him. Not all, he observed, were gypsies. The little girl of twelve was as fair-skinned as himself. She was a beautiful child, with face most expressive of any passing emotion. It was to her that Clarence presently found he was addressing himself. One of his subtle jokes, lost on the gypsies, drew a smile of appreciation from the little girl. She was dainty in her dress – which was in no respect gypsy-like.

“There’s another adventure here,” Clarence reflected. “Where did they get her?” However, he was content to keep these thoughts to himself. At the conclusion of his story, Clarence addressed himself to the young man.

“And now, sir, where am I?”

“You’re in Wisconsin.”

“Oh, I’ve crossed to the other side, have I? And about how far down the river am I from the town of McGregor?”

“You are – ” began the younger gypsy, when his senior cut him short, and spoke to him hurriedly for some minutes in a language strange to Clarence’s ears.

“I say,” interrupted Clarence, “my folks must be awful anxious about me. Would you mind letting me know how far I am from McGregor? I want to get back.”

“You are over thirty-five miles from McGregor,” said the older man, thoughtfully doubling the actual distance.

“Whew! Where can I get a train? I’ve got to get back.”

“Hold on,” said the elder; “what does your father do?”

“He’s a mining expert.”

“Is he rich?”

“I suppose he is. That’s what people say; and if you get me back, I’ll see that you’re paid.”

Again the two men conferred. Watching them eagerly, Clarence gathered these items of information: the elder was called Pete, the younger, Ben; they were not in agreement, coming almost to blows; Pete was the leader.

After further talk the two women were called into council. Suddenly the older, a withered hag with deep eyes and heavy and forbidding brows, turned to Clarence.

“Your hand!” she said, laconically.

“Charmed to shake with you,” responded the amiable adventurer, extending his open palm.

Instead of clasping it, the woman caught it tight, and dragging Clarence close to the fire began eagerly to scrutinize the lines on his palm.

“You’ll live long,” she said.

“Not if I have many days like this,” commented Clarence.

“You’ll have lots of wealth.”

“No objection, I’m sure, ma’am.”

“You will learn easy.”

“That’s the very way I propose to learn.”

“You’ll marry three times.”

“Oh, I say; cut out at least two of those wives, won’t you?”

“You’ll have a big family.”

“No objection to children, ma’am.”

Suddenly the woman paused, gazing fixedly at the boy’s palm.

“Oh!” she suddenly screamed. “The cross! the cross! It’s there. I see it. Say, boy, you’re a Catholic.”

“You’re another,” retorted Clarence, indignantly.

“You are! You are!” And with a cry like that of some wild animal, the woman ran and hid herself in the larger tent.

“Boy,” said Pete, “we’re going to take care of you.”

“Thank you; but if it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon take care of myself.”

“You’ll do as I tell you,” said Pete, gazing angrily at the lad. “You may be a fraud. We will find out, and if your story is true, we’ll see about getting you back to your people.”

“Oh, you will, will you? – Good night!” and with this Clarence turned and dashed up the river. Pete, followed by Ezra, was after him at once. The old man was quick to catch up with him, and he made this fact known to the boy by striking him with his closed fist a blow on the mouth which brought him flat to the earth. Pete kicked his prostrate prey as he lay, and was about to renew his brutality, when Ben roughly pulled his senior away.

“Look here!” cried Clarence ruefully, as he picked himself up. “Next time you want me to do something, tell me. You needn’t punch ideas in through my mouth. I guess I can take a hint as well as the next one.”

“You’d better do what Pete says,” whispered Ben not unkindly. “It’s no use trying to get away from him. I’ll be your friend.”

“Thank you. By the way, would you call kicks and cuffs adventures?”

The man shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, I was singing the praises of the goddess of adventure this morning. I wanted to meet her the worst way. Well, I’ve been meeting her all day and I’m kind of tired. If I get my hands on her, I’ll hold her under water till she’s as dead as a door-nail.”

“Oh, yes!” said the mystified Ben.

But the adventures of that day were not yet over, as Clarence, to his cost, was soon to learn.

CHAPTER VI

In which Clarence meets Dora, learns much of his gypsy companion, fights Ezra, and is sung to slumber

“Dora,” said Ben, as they neared the campfire, “come here.”

The little girl came running at his call.

“I want you to show this boy around. He’s one of your kind, and you’ll be good company for each other while he’s with us.”